Weight

I was told by certain family members that I will be made fun in prison about my weight. Why should prison be any different than a school play yard? Although, I anticipate many women of all shapes and sizes right along with me in Carswell. It's not like the healthiest people always find themselves in prison and I am going to a medical facility. 

My weight has always been a thing with my family. Not just my parents, but with others as well. On my mother's side of the family, the women would rather starve themselves than show an ounce of fat. Even my teenage niece has been diagnosed with an eating disorder do to the overwhelming insistence on skinny and outward appearance. 

For me, I was a teenage athlete, always active, but never skinny - even when I was incredibly muscular. In my early 20's doctors diagnosed me with poly-cystic ovarian syndrome and pretty much told me that my attempts to really diet were futile. Sure, I can lose weight, but I will never be skinny, my body doesn't react right to too many foods.

Then my diet is also bad and got worst as my gambling progressed. Hours upon hours of food deprivation while gambling and then eating whatever I could find while driving home was not the diet of champions. I gained weight. I hated myself and I didn't care. 

Losing weight, especially with the PCOS, is very difficult. I plateau at too high a weight. My doctor says that I shouldn't worry about it because my weight is not unhealthy per se (my cholesterol and blood pressure and glucose numbers are fine). But it's always been a struggle of mine - wanting to be thinner - not like my family, but able to fit in a small, medium, or large (not in the XL + categories) and dealing with my personal body realities and other demons.

Ironically, since I got sick a year ago, my weight has been on a roller coaster. At first I lost ten pounds almost immediately, then 6 months of prednisone caused me weight gain plus a full on round moon face, now I've lost nearly 30 pounds - but the moon face is still there. So people don't see the weight loss if they just look at my face. Plus my stiffness makes my walking so difficult at times that my mom thought it was due to weight gain. 

For a while now I've made a joke with my friends on diets saying that I didn't need to go on a diet, because soon I'm going to be on the prison diet. For some in prison, all the carb heavy food, and the junk they sell in commissary, causes them to gain weight. For others, prison causes them to lose weight. I don't think I'll be gaining weight. I'm a very picky eater, so if I don't like my food, I literally will not eat it. I'll just visit the salad bar. I don't have enough money to buy a bunch of junk food from the commissary. I will be offered three meals per day, which is better rounded out than how I currently eat (usually skip breakfast and sometimes lunch when I'm at work). My metabolism may actually get closer to normal.

So, unlike my family, I am not worried about being called names about my weight in prison. I own my size and actually believe myself cute sometimes. If it helps keep some people off my back, I'll be glad for that. I don't judge people based on their size or looks and no one knows someone's back story about why they may have a scar, their weight, no hair, etc.; and, it is none of my business either.